Walkin' After Midnight by Joe Ricker

Author:Joe Ricker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Kyle pulled the slide release back on the AR-15. The bullet clamored into the chamber like a hard-struck billiard ball into a pocket. His breath blew out in short bursts. The blinds on the windows were still open and he could see a few of the patrons were still at the card table. He wondered if Molly had been mistaken when the bar closed. The more he thought, the more he lost his edge, the more he wanted to start his truck and drive home, the more he realized how much ridicule Molly would push down on him. He pulled the ski mask down over his face and got out of the truck.

The crunch of ice under his feet only seemed louder the slower he tried to walk toward the side entrance, where there was less light, where he could creep into the hallway and surprise the patrons. When he got to the steel door, his heart was racing. His breath came in short bursts and he wheezed. He stepped into the hallway on the outside of the bar that led to the restrooms. The patrons, a few scattered men who had just finished their card game, moved to the bar to finish their drinks. Kyle sputtered, he couldn’t breathe. He thought of all those shootings at daycare centers and schools and movie theaters, and he couldn’t understand the desensitization. He lost his breath and fumbled through his pockets.

Kyle stripped the ski mask over his head and took two solid puffs from his inhaler. Calm pushed through his lungs and he took another puff. He could feel his lungs open and ease into normal. The door from the hallway to the bar opened quietly and Kyle didn’t notice its movement until the door had tapped his elbow. A red-mustached man with a cleft palate stared at him. His black-green plaid shirt was tucked into his jeans. The soft, worn leather of his boots matched his belt. Kyle looked up at him, lowering the inhaler from his mouth.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I-I—”

“All the guns were supposed to be here by seven. The show isn’t until tomorrow.” The man sighed. “I’ll get Linda.”

The man walked back into the bar, calling for Linda. Kyle attempted to gather himself, remind himself of why he was there. He reached for the rifle and the door opened again.

The heavy woman entered the hallway. “Here to check your gun, huh? Should have been here by seven. Follow me.”

She turned, shaking a set of keys in her hand, and went to a steel door that led to the basement. She unlocked it and pulled it open. Kyle stared at her, the gun balanced in his left hand. The flash of his video games pushed through his thoughts, the surrealistic cartoons of crashing automobiles and soldiers scrambling to objectives, subdued automatic gunfire and the bursts of blood and grunts of dying enemies became less real for him. Laughter came from the bar.

“You coming?” Linda asked.

“Jude? Is he working?”

“Jude is no longer with us.

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